A new world
by Happymood
Summary: When he steps for the first time in the New World, England is sure he has finally found the new start he always hoped for. She is beautiful, so different from what he is used to. It would take him years, though, to realize she was trying to tell him something...


It takes years before her face stops hunting him.

She is so different from the women, nations or humans, that England usually spends his time with. Her skin is not pale white from all the time surrounded by four walls; neither is covered with makeup to make it almost ethereal. Her eyes are dark; her hands are calloused, so unlike the delicate fingers of the noblewomen he usually deals with.

In his eyes, she is not covered at all. Her long legs shows, he can see the curve of her muscles in her arms, her collarbone and even a tiny glance of her hip. It is preposterous, blameful even as a gentleman and a lady cannot let the others see them without being properly dressed.

She is a savage. She looks at him from afar, surrounded by her own children; her long, black hair decorated with feathers and held down with leather ties. She is not like the other countries had described the New Nations to be, and suddenly England is aware that he is the first to see her.

Like all the other New Nations, she has no manners. She walks barefoot, and she cannot speak his language.

Yet again, as soon as he sees her, he is allured. She is the image of freedom, of a new life. A new start. She is beautiful.

Fields that stretch out all around him. The woods that never end. The soothing sound of the river. Birds chirping. The cries of animals England has never seen. She is still to be discovered.

Back home there are only overly tended gardens, surrounded by bushes of roses. Everything is studied, even the way they talk. The conversations are false. Afternoons sitting near a fireplace sipping tea and asking questions of irrelevant importance. The clothes so tight that don't let you move, but that are so beautiful, so rich, embroidered by the most famous tailors. Books that say nothing of life. Little yellow canaries in a golden cage.

England likes his routine, the cups of tea and walking around at six before dinner. But here is different. It is like time has no meaning. Everything is free and belongs to everyone. No books, no cages, no itchy clothes. They talk only if they have something important to say. No one lies. Everything is true.

This is a utopia England would have never imagine could exist. He suddenly can breathe.

His people sigh of relief when they finally settle down in that new world.

* * *

At first she remains looking from afar. Only her children are courageous enough to meet them, clang on their armors with their sticks and laughing at the metallic sound. His men are annoyed by their behavior, but he has no eyes for them.

England just stares around him, feels the grass under his fingers as he walks along the river. She is always besides him, following him and watching his every move. England always hated the silence. But every time he turns around and looks at her, he realizes that in the end he doesn't truly mind.

* * *

One day she touches his shoulder.

She tugs at his funny clothes and watches magnetized at the weapons he is carrying around. In his eyes, she is like a child that needs to be instructed of life, and so he sits down, points at things and gives them a name.

She sits down as well. It is the first time she accepts his hand. He keeps talking and she just looks at him with her big dark eyes, like a curious doe. She says something, but England doesn't understand.

It takes a while before he realizes she is trying to tell him her name, but England never quite catches it.

"I'm England." He says instead. Her lips are rosy and move slightly when she tries to repeat what he said. She is curious to know all about him, and England feels obliged to teach her.

The sky is blue and the wind is soothing. She speaks a lot with her hands; she starts with simple words like water, fire and earth. She is easily bored and so she laughs and starts running around in the fields.

England loves her laugh. She is not a nation, she is freedom. He never realizes that the one who should have learned something should have been him.

* * *

His people build houses. They try to make them slightly different from how they are back home, but they still hold that domestic air they are used to. Then they build fences and isolate themselves once more.

The natives are getting in the way. England wants to move on from the seashore, wants to see what exists on the other side of the forest, but she never lets him.

"Since when you are here?", England asks one day. She is playing with her hair, braiding it and then letting it all loose once more.

"As long as I remember." She says, her English is still rusty after all those years but understandable now. She walks slowly, then stops by the river and looks down at her reflection. Her every move is a gift. England looks at her, she kneels down and drinks.

"Are there more nations here?", he asks then, sitting down on the damp grass. She looks at him, the way her shoulder blades move make him shiver.

"What do you mean?", she asks. She doesn't understand. He sighs and she sits next to him.

"Aren't there others like you and me? Other nations?", he tries to explain. He finds himself running his fingers through her raven hair. She lets him.

"I know no one." She says. Her skin is warm from the sun, her eyes are on him. She grabs his hand, and he looks down at the different tone of skin.

"Have you never fought with a nation that tried to conquer your land?", he asks then. Her nails are filled with dirt and still her hands looks so beautiful. Back home she would have been perfect in any way, with her hair combed up and a beautiful dress that covered her all.

"We fight as well." She says, "All humans do. But land… you cannot conquer."

England's eyes are on hers.

"That's not true." He says. She lets him go.

"We are not leaders of the land, we are part of it." She tries to explain. He doesn't understand and she gives up.

There is silence, broken only by the sound of the water running before them. The air is pure. The tree branches move with the wind. England wants this land. He wants to make a new start here, start all over again, forget his old rules and make new ones. She doesn't understand and when he slowly leans down and kisses her rosy lips, he realizes that he has already conquered her without her noticing.

* * *

Her face hunts him for years. She is everywhere. In the cries of her people, in the sound of the horses running, in the shooting and in his heart beating madly inside his chest.

The land around him is still the same. He changes it step by step, following a dream. She disappears. Her people run away. The river becomes polluted.

Slowly his first villages in the new world are inhabited by his people. Men, women and children are mesmerized by this new beauty that slightly reminded them of home. They are still surrounded by fields stretching out over to the horizon.

One day he starts walking out of the village without a purpose. He remembers the first time he had stepped there, years before, her eyes watching his every move.

England misses her. He knows he had treated her horribly, and yet the love he felt for her land was as strong as ever. He would have liked her to be with him. He would have liked her to become like him and follow him.

She has disappeared some days after that incident by the river. He can still feel her skin on his and her dark hair running between his fingers. He keeps searching for her, and for the slightest moments he thinks he sees her watching him from a point in the horizon.

England shouts something, but not her real name because he never managed to catch that. He starts walking fast, and then stops suddenly in the middle of a prairie. He stops not because he couldn't go on, but because there is a kid there blocking his way.

He is looking around him; his eyes are as blue as the sky above them. England watches him in silence before the boy actually notices him and turns to look at him.

England's heart skips a beat. The boy is blond, he actually resembles him, but there was something of her in him that couldn't be coincidental.

"America?" England asks and the boy blinks at him before smiling widely.

* * *

America is easily bored. He prefers to run around and lift bulls with his superhuman strength rather than listen to England's lectures. America speaks his mind, yet he chooses his words carefully.

America is what England dreamed of. A mixture of freedom and tradition. He loves him; he fulfills America's every whim. He tries not to treat him like his other colonies, and yet it takes him a while to realize that America's freedom can't be tamed.

There is something about her in him that England doesn't want to let go. He holds him near because America makes England powerful. Maybe it's the new life that gives him such strength.

America is his weakness.

She and America have the same profile, England notices one day. The nose is slightly different, more alike his own.

"What are you thinking of, old man?", America asks and laughs at the way his words made England's ear tint red.

"You have no manners!", England shouts. America just laughs. Their laughter is different, England suddenly thinks. America's one is unique.

He is unique because he grows fast as well. It takes him less than England predicted for him to grow much taller than England was. Soon enough England has to crack his neck up to look at him.

England suddenly realizes that America can overpower him if he is not careful. He doesn't want to lose him, but America seems to love him and doesn't look willing to go.

Nevertheless, England tightens his grasp around America's wrist one day. America looks at him in question. England doesn't explain his actions, just holds America close.

It is raining.

"Aren't you a little old to be afraid of storms?", America jokes. England punches him playfully on the arm. America is still young and doesn't understand.

England remembers that she liked the rain, in the same way she liked the sun and the snow. He feels like she is there in that moment, but when he turns around he just sees America sleeping soundly besides him.

* * *

The day England loses him is also a rainy one.

He swears the mud is up to his tights. He is cold and shivering. America is looking down at him. England had never saw him like that. All the sun is gone. He has tried to hold him close and ended up being hated.

No one can tame an eagle.

"From now on consider me independent." America says. He is pointing his gun at him. England's heart is racing. His dreams of a utopia are shattering in thousands of pieces. America is still young and doesn't know how to fight.

England could take him back if he wanted.

But, in the end, land cannot be conquered. England has never conquered it.

She had been right.

He is exhausted of lying to himself.

"I remember when you were great." America words hurt him. England wonders if she had ever thought he was great, but maybe she has always considered him a fool.

She had tried to teach him. She had left that kid behind hoping England would understand before she became part of the land forever.

England had not.

England had been the one to be conquered first, and they hadn't needed his lands to achieve that. Neither of them has ever stepped inside his house.

England watches America go and America does not look behind.

* * *

England is happy that he could at least have him as this. After years and years of ignoring each other, America finally accepts him as his friend. England is just glad he can hear his voice and that annoying laughter again. See his profile and shout at him if America gets bored too easily.

England feels that if they keep being at least friends, he can have a little of that freedom back.

He is wrong.

It is only when he walks in the street one day, years after, that he realizes that maybe freedom was not to be found in someone else. It is a thought that comes and goes as he stops and stares at a couple sitting on a bench, laughing, their hair green and piercings all over. They look happy in each other presence, but England knows there is something more than love that holds them together.

They look up at him, and England's ears tint red and quickly walks away.

The courage to change is just around the corner, and he doesn't truly mind when he forgets his suits and buys new clothes, listens to music and feels like a pirate again when he puts an earring on again after so many eons fighting against his own urges.

He wonders if that it was how she felt when she laughed and ran in the fields. He thinks that and her face suddenly stops hunting him.

_The end_


End file.
